Don't You Want Me, Baby?
by Euterpe1014
Summary: A humor/romance just in time for Valentine's Day! Quatre's got a surprise for Trowa. It's disturbing-- yet kinda sweet! Sticky and sour (full of sap and lime)...


Don't You Want Me, Baby?  
by Euterpe  
  
  
This is just a little comedy/romance-- I just couldn't let V-Day pass without writing something, sorry if it's a bit late...Title's from a song by some group called The Human League-- btw, I don't own that either...  
  
Warning: Yaoi-- guys making out and stuff (lime?), very naughty Quatre. Also, I don't like to call it "out-of-character"-- I prefer to call it "stretching" things a bit. And "Endless Waltz"-- hey, what's that? Never happened...  
  
Disclaimer: *Enter Catherine* "Hi, I'm Catherine Bloom, Trowa's sister. Euterpe asked me to come in tonight and use my special talent to do the disclaimer for the audience. You see, on most days, I work at a circus, throwing knives for a living. It's a pretty convenient skill to have when you're trying to keep your brother's lecherous boyfriend away from him. That little blond hussy is always lurking behind the tents at night, trying to molest him-- well, I'm not about to let that happen!" *whips out knife* "I have to protect my little brother's virtue! Anyway, enough about me. Here's the disclaimer:" *pulls out an arsenal of knives and flings them with precision at a board placed nearby. As they land, they spell out "Euterpe doesn't own 'GW'". Catherine takes a bow* "OK now-- on with the main show- the fic! I hope you all enjoy it. From what Euterpe told me, it sounds very sweet. I'll have to have a look at it myself..." *pauses to look down at fic below* "Dear God, no-- Trowa, get over here right now! What have I told you about that boy? We need to have a serious talk, young man!" *marches angrily offstage*  
  
  
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Trowa stood on the doorstep of the Winner Mansion. Today was the big day. He rang the doorbell and waited for a response, as he reflected on the circumstances that had led him there. With the wars finally over, he had been able to give up his lifetime of fighting, as he so longed to do; he was in the process of learning how to live a normal life in the peace he had helped create. Two people had been vital to him as emotional supports-- one was his sister of course, but the other, whom he was currently waiting for, was one of his fellow pilots, Quatre Raberba Winner. Sweet, innocent, gentle Quatre. Not too long after they had first met, they both realized they shared the same kinds of feelings for one another, and developed a deep bond. They were reluctant to act on their feelings until after the threat of war was gone, however, because the potential for loss was too great. But once White Fang had been defeated, their relationship had progressed smoothly and quickly. Now, only a few months later, Quatre had just asked Trowa to move in with him, and he had consented. It was difficult for him to give up his surrogate family in the circus for his lover, but he cared enough about Quatre to want to be with him full-time. Which was the reason he was standing at the entrance to the immense estate, holding all his worldly possessions in a pair of suitcases. He heard the delicate footsteps that could only be Quatre's approaching the door, and his lips upturned in the slightest smile as he waited for his little angel to come for him.  
  
"I'll get that, Rashid. It's probably Trowa." the former Heavyarms pilot could hear Quatre yelling. Then he heard him say something else, in a much quieter voice that probably no one else was supposed to hear: "Finally, my harem has arrived!" accompanied by wicked giggling. Somehow, it sounded very disturbing...  
  
The door creaked open. "Trowa!" the blond threw his arms around the other boy's neck and held him tightly. "You're finally here. I have to show you your room right away. I'll get someone to come and take care of your things-- just leave them here in the hallway for now." He pulled back from Trowa and grabbed his hand, dragging him up the stairs and forcing him to abandon his luggage.  
  
'That's odd,' noted Trowa as he followed, or more precisely, was forced along. 'I could have sworn he said "my room" and not "our room". That wouldn't make any sense-- we wouldn't be in separate rooms, would we? He must've made a mistake.'  
  
After making their way down a very long hallway, they were now at the door. Quatre opened it wide, and pushed his partner forward to give him a better look. "What do you think? I set it up just for you. I hope you like it." he smiled, seeking approval.  
  
"It's-- it's very nice." Good thing Trowa had such a poker face. As soon as he caught his first glimpse, he had to fight valiantly to keep his features straight and cover up his shock. The decor resembled the honeymoon suite  
of a sleazy hotel, complete with an exotic jungle motif, mirrors on the ceiling, and a heart-shaped bed that he was pretty sure was vibrating...'Quatre-- my innocent little Quatre-- did /this/?!?'  
  
"You really mean that? I'm so happy you like it! I'm glad you showed up when you did. I was getting worried about you, and to tell you the truth, I couldn't wait much longer to test out the new bed, hehe..." OK, now this was getting scary. Quatre sounded just a little too enthusiastic about that last statement. Before Trowa could respond, though, the Arab had already hurried over to the other side of the room, and leapt onto said bed. He gestured to Trowa to join him, but the green-eyed boy was too overwhelmed to move.   
  
"Hurry up!" Quatre was next to him again in a flash, pulling him over by both hands and flinging him down onto the leopard-print sheets. "Silly me! I almost forgot to close the door. You just take your clothes off, lie down, and relax, I'll take care of it." Trowa didn't move at first. "CLOTHES OFF! LIE DOWN!" Quatre repeated in a much louder voice, and this time, his command worked. "There now, aren't you more comfortable like that?" He put on his angelic smile again. "Sorry to have to yell at you, but you have to follow the rules, you know."  
  
"Rules? What are you talking about?" the other ex-pilot, now down to his boxers, was getting a bit nervous. Quatre hadn't mentioned any "rules" to him before this.  
  
His petite partner was fastening numerous locks and bolts to the door to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted. "I could've sworn I showed them to you! They're the rules that you're going to have to follow now that we're living together. Don't worry, I have a copy right here-- you can take a quick look at them if you'd like." He produced a sheet of paper from his khakis, unfolded it, and gave it to Trowa. As he sat up again and scanned the list, he was positive that Quatre had never shown these to him before. And he had most definitely never agreed to follow them:  
  
^^^^^^^^^  
Quatre's Rules for Trowa:  
  
1. Unless instructed otherwise, you are to remain in this room, in bed at all times.  
  
2. You will always be "in the mood".  
  
3. You will learn to like leather.  
  
4. You will address me as your "well-endowed Arabian prince", or alternatively, "Master Quatre".  
  
5. You will answer to the name "my tamed circus lion".  
  
6. Remember that I possess the keys to the handcuffs!   
  
^^^^^^^^^  
  
"See? They're nothing major. I'm sure everything will be fine as long as we stick to them. It's all minor stuff, really, just things that I'm particular about. Later on, I'll get it put on a plaque or something so that we can put it up for reference." Quatre yanked the piece of paper out of his lover's hands. "Enough wasting time. Let's get started."  
  
Before he joined Trowa on the bed, he went over to the nightstand, pulled open a drawer, and began picking through until he found what he was looking for. His face lit up as he pulled out the case. "Now do you happen to remember what Rule #6 was, Trowa?"  
  
"Was that the one about the lion?" the unibang boy guessed hopefully.  
  
"No, silly! That's Rule #5! Rule six is the one about the handcuffs. Here they are-- let me just put them on you, and you'll be all set." the blond quickly fastened a set of handcuffs to each arm and leg, and attached the other ends to his custom-made bed. As an afterthought, he also switched on the vibrating mechanism. "There. Are you comfortable enough?" Trowa relaxed a little, and nodded. He had decided that this was all just a little game-- Quatre liked to role-play sometimes, just never on this scale-- but eventually he would let him go. Hopefully soon-- the handcuffs were a little too tight...  
  
"Great! Now let's fuc--"  
  
"Quatre!" Where had his Little One picked up that kind of language?  
  
"Sorry." the Arabian giggled. "Duo taught me that word. Well, you know what I mean," he corrected himself hastily, and jumped up onto the bed, straddling Trowa's chest. He pressed his body up close and started kissing him ferociously, sliding his tongue between soft parted lips, before quickly pulling back to attend to other places...the neck...the chest...the well-toned stomach--  
  
The phone rang before he could move further. "Oh, shi--" Trowa glared at him, reminding him to watch the language. "I mean, who could that be?" Quatre reluctantly gave up his activities to take the call. "Hello? Abdul? It's tea time already? OK then, I'll be right down." He put down the phone and sighed. "Just when we were getting to the good part, too. It would be wrong for me to miss tea, though. Don't worry, love. I'll be right back." He gave Trowa a quick peck and slid off of him, rearranging his clothes before heading for the door.  
  
"Q-quatre? Y-you're not just gona l-leave me here, are y-you?" The vibrating bed and his half-aroused state made it difficult for Trowa to get the words out. "P-please uncuff me at least."  
  
"I'll only be gone a few minutes. You just stay put for now." Quatre winked mischievously. "I'll be back for you later."  
  
"P-please? I could come with you..."  
  
The blond clucked his tongue. "You're forgetting our rules again. Just stay put." He furrowed his brows in thought for a moment. "Although I suppose, if you're feeling /that/ lonely, I could always send up Rashid to keep you company..."  
  
Trowa shook his head frantically. "N-no, thanks, that's OK. J-just p-promise that you'll be back soon."  
  
"Of course. You know I can't wait too long." He finished unbolting the door and slipped outside. The sound of the door closing was followed by the clicking of additional locks that were designed to keep Trowa /in/.  
  
The former soldier leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, only to close his eyes when he realized that all he could see was his own pitiful reflection staring back at him, a visual reminder of just how uncomfortable he felt. He tried to relax himself, but found it impossible as he sensed the aching feeling that was developing between his legs, a result of his stimulated but unsatiated physical desire. Which he was completely helpless to do anything about even on his own, because in his confined state. He shifted and sighed, waiting for Quatre to return. 'He promised he'll be back soon. He damn well better be, I have to pee...'  
  
*****  
  
"I'm ba-ack! Did ya miss me?"  
  
Three hours later, the young heir had finally returned. In the meantime, however, the effects of the vibrating bed had finally gotten to Trowa, and his face had turned an unpleasant shade of green that perfectly matched his eyes. His handcuffs were also beginning to chafe at his skin.  
  
"Oh no! I left the bed on, didn't I?" Quatre hurried over and flicked the switch off. "That'll really kill the mood." As he watched Trowa return to his normal color, he explained what had caused his delay. "Sorry I took so long. Tea ran a little late today, then a representative of a client of Winner Industries stopped by, and he chewed my ear off. I simply could /not/ get him to leave!" He hopped back onto the bed and sat himself between Trowa's legs. "Let's continue where we left off, shall we?" He exclaimed, literally preparing to do so.  
  
"Quatre, no! Please stop!" Trowa insisted, as he felt his boxers being pulled down. "You're really starting to scare me now. Enough." This had gone on for too long already, and he wanted to put a stop to it before things got worse.  
  
The smaller boy's eyes welled up with tears. "What do you mean? Don't you love me anymore?" He began to sob loudly as the tears spilled down his face.  
  
A bit late, Trowa realized his choice of words was poor. Quatre was very sensitive, and by not being tactful enough, his lover had somehow managed to hurt his feelings. He wished that he could comfort him, but unfortunately, he was still held down by his handcuffs.  
  
"Of course I still love you, Little One. You know that. I love you more now than when we first met, and I will continue to love you more strongly every day. But I don't like having to prove my love to you in this way. It makes me uncomfortable."  
  
"B-but I thought you liked this. I asked you before, and you didn't seem to mind..." The Arabian's waterworks had mostly stopped now, and his sobs were coming out in little hiccups.  
  
"Truthfully, it bothered me from the start." Trowa admitted. "I should have said something earlier, but I didn't want to make you feel bad."  
  
"Why do you always do that?" Quatre exclaimed in frustration. "You try to hide your feelings from me-- from everybody! I get so frustrated sometimes because I feel like I can't understand you. You have to open up to me a little more. Please. I know that's hard for you to do, but you have to trust me completely."  
  
"You need to trust me too." The tall boy tilted his head up toward the handcuffs encircling his wrists. "These aren't necessary-- all you have to do is ask, and I will stay."   
  
"I'm sorry. I'll take those off for you." Quatre fished the keys from his pocket and removed the handcuffs. As his lover sat up and massaged his raw wrists, the blond lowered his eyes from Trowa's gaze, ashamed. "Allah, how could I have been so stupid? I was wrong to do this to you, Trowa. Please forgive me." He collapsed into Trowa's arms, his body racked with renewed sobbing.  
  
"Shh. It's OK. See? I'm still here with you." The green-eyed boy gave him a gentle squeeze.  
  
The towhead looked up at him. "But sometimes I get so scared that you're gonna leave me, Trowa! You weren't just my first-- you know--" he blushed slightly as the words came out. "You were also my first real friend. When I was younger, my father never allowed me to play with other children, so I was by myself most of the time. I had my sisters, but all they ever did to me was dress me up in their clothes." ('ah,' Trowa noted to himself, 'that explains the pink...') "And the Maguanacs are nice to me of course, but they have me up on some kind of pedestal, and I really hate that. I always wanted someone who was just like me, who could understand what I was going through, especially during the war...and I found that someone in you. And everything's so perfect with us now that I'm afraid I'll do something wrong and mess it all up-- and then you'll hate me."  
  
"I could never hate you. Never." Trowa punctuated his words with row of gentle kisses across the fine golden strands. "We love each other. We need each other. I've needed you to help me get through the war and to deal with the past. You and Catherine have brought about so much change in my life. Before I met you, all I knew was killing and hate. But now that I'm with you, I feel like I have something to live for besides being a soldier. It's like there's this warmth of love that surrounds you, and I-- I want to get as close to that warmth as possible."  
  
"Do you really feel that way about me?" Quatre was amazed-- Trowa had never opened up like this to him before. The unibang boy nodded and spoke softly. "Of course. You're my angel."  
  
"'Fallen angel' is more like it," Quatre noted bitterly. "You must think I'm some kind of pervert now, with the handcuffs and everything. I just wanted to make you happy-- I'm sorry if I scared you."  
  
His lover smiled slightly. "You're forgetting that I was once a Gundam pilot, too. I've been in worse situations. Don't worry, I don't think any less of you now. I just found it a little...intimidating that you came on so strongly-- you weren't being yourself."  
  
"You're right about everything. I'll get rid of the whole room first thing, tomorrow morning. The rules too." The blond searched around for his list, found it, and tore it up into tiny pieces. He smiled, relieved. "And of course the handcuffs."  
  
"You should know that don't need handcuffs to keep me in your bed. I'm yours forever." The green-eyed boy spoke tenderly as he laid back, pulling the other youth down on top of him. Quatre took the hint and began nibbling eagerly on his lower lip. He ran a hand gently over his lover's smooth skin to brush away the long brown locks that obscured his desire-ridden features.  
  
Suddenly, Trowa broke off the kiss. Quatre looked at him, worried. Had he done something else wrong?  
  
"Quatre?" He traced a finger over the blond's moistened pink lips.  
  
"Yes, Trowa?"  
  
"Let's not make a regular habit of it, but...if you'd like me to wear the handcuffs just for tonight, I'd be happy to oblige."   
  
"//Just// for tonight?"  
  
"We'll see, Little One. We'll see."  
  
  
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*Looks up at fic* Dear Lord! Catherine's right! When did this happen? I'm definitely getting worse-- at this rate, my next fic is gonna be an NC-17! I'd better bring out Trowa and Quatre to clear things up...*waves around magic anime wand* See ya later, folks, I'm off to Katsucon...  
  
*Trowa and Quatre appear* *Quatre:* "Hi again, everyone! We're here on behalf of the authoress, who wants to let you know that nothing in this fic is true-- everyone knows I would /never/ do any of that mean stuff to Trowa! I mean, come on! That's just preposterous-- little old me, a hentai?" *nudges Trowa* "Am I right, Tro-Tro?" *Trowa sweatdrops* "Um...yes, absolutely." *Quatre hugs him* "Aw, thank you, Trowa! You've made me sooo happy! You know what would make me even happier tonight, though?" *Trowa shakes his head, a little scared after reading the fic* "If people review! Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!"  
  
  
*Authoress runs back on stage out of breath, duffel bag in hand* Sorry, I forgot my pocky. Oh, so I gave this some thought...I'm been in kind of a citrusy mood as of late, and seeing how this fic has progressed, I wouldn't be all that adverse to maybe writing a lemon sequel. Well, what do you think? Let me know, please!! 


End file.
